In Love's Chokehold
by MidnightBebe104
Summary: It started as a game and turned into something neither of them could control. Byakuya/ Ichigo Shuuhei/Ichigo AU Yaoi
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This will be a rather short story.

Rating: M : male x male relations, language

Warnings: Yaoi

Pairings: Byakuya x Ichigo, Shuuhei x Ichigo

Beta: DaisukeUchiha

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

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><p>In Love's Chokehold<p>

Chapter 1: Desire's clutch

His hunger, I feel it more than usual today.

My chest tightens as his hand glides down my waist. The long, slender fingers trace my waist line tentatively; the glide leaving behind a trail of sensuous shivers and fickle goosebumps.

I continue to bite down on my lower lip as his warm tongue traces my shoulder lining. I feel his other hand begin to caress the innermost of my thigh and can't bite back the small moan that exudes my lips. He takes full notice and bites down on my shoulder; the force controlled and restrained much like everything else about him.

Even in bed. This man…

My hands clench on the bed sheets, my head digging itself into the lush pillow and replacing my gnawing teeth from my now-pricked lips to the large cushion.

I suck in a breath as his body presses itself tighter against mine, his ever present erection rubbing against a too provocative area of my body. His tantalizing lips pressing chaste kisses across my neck.

Oh how I want him. I want all of him, but I have to control myself. If there's one thing he hates is neediness.

He's so cruel.

How can he expect I have him this close, doing such things to me, and remain in control?

How can he look at me and expect me not be needy. How can he look at himself and expect me not be.

Every inch of my body craves for him. My hunger for him is boundless and insatiable. It's never enough. I want more, more of him, more of his touch, more of his breath, his lips, his heart, I want it all, but it's never enough. My body, my soul, it isn't satisfied.

It's never enough.

Every bit of this man, I want for myself, but he doesn't belong to me and he never will.

But I allow myself, as selfish as it may seem, to dwell in the knowing fact that in this moment in time, he is mine, mine and only mine.

"Turn around…" He whispers.

That velvet voice sinks into the deepest part of me and sends my body into spiral of utter self-enthrallment. I love that voice. I love that man.

"I want to look at you."

His cruelty is almost mocking.

If he knew what his words did to me, he'd prevent from uttering them. Every word that exudes those marvelous silken lips, they should be considered a sin.

Before I am able to give a second thought my body is delicately maneuvered to face upwards, my legs spread and bare body exposed to clear sight, his sight. But I want it. I want him to look at me. Like that I can pretend he can truly see me. I can allow my mind to fill to the brim with illusive joy and bliss and pretend that those marvelous eyes can see me. Me, not only my body, but my insides, maybe then he'll see how much this heart beats for him. But I'm being selfish again aren't I?

The pearl-like grey eyes connect with my own. I remain fixed on them, the mesmerizing pools of grey, deep, unreadable, beautiful.

"Byak-"

I begin but feel my breath catch in my throat when his face closes in on my own. The contours of his alluring and pronounced features stand out starkly against the shoddy lighting emitted from the single turned-on lamp atop the drawer, the rest obscured in the shadows.

His hand brushes my cheek delicately, his eyes still glued on my own. I suck in a breath when his lips close in against mine. My thirst for him instantly drives me to part my lips to allow the familiar tongue to delve inside. I let his taste drown my senses. The taste of dulcet honey and meek vanilla bean, it seems meshed with him. His taste. The taste I love. The taste whose suffocating greeting is welcomed, it's stagnating swindling of my breath is desired rather than opposed. Air equals life, but if his taste removes my air, I'd die a million times for it.

I raise my hand over his back, allowing it to fall in its lower region. My finger deliberately twirls itself along its indented crevasse. I know he enjoys this, and my proof is provided in the hard suck given to my lower lip and low feral growl he releases.

Can she make you feel like this? Tell me, Byakuya, can she?

I continue on my ministrations as his tongue swerves through every nook and cranny inside my mouth, my tongue imitating shortly after and melding seamlessly with his own.

How can those lips not be mine?

Can you not see how perfectly we coincide?

I know it's not the same with her.

It can't be.

She can't satisfy you like I do, if she could, then why would you be here?

It's a stupid question. And I know its answer. But it pains me and it's not the one I want, so I'll lock it away and leave it there in a distant place that even I hold little knowledge of. I'll leave it there to rot, because I don't want it. But this is just wishful thinking. It'll come out to haunt me like it does on every godforsaken day of my life.

A small hiss escapes my mouth when he once more nips on the rims of my lips. I clamp my legs around his waist.

It's unbearable, this heat.

I want him. I want him so.

Subconsciously my legs buck upwards towards his growing erection, allowing my own to make contact and providing for some much desired friction. I rub against his throbbing member, relishing in its marvelous heat and subtle moisture. I want it inside of me, that wonderful heat that only he can provide, his length driving into me, each time with more force than the last, his wonderful thickness stretching me, owning me. I feel my entrance twitch at the thought and ground my hips harder against him.

"Calm yourself," He says simply, pulling away from the kiss. His hands clutch my legs and unclamp them from his waist. I can't help the whine that escapes my lips.

How can he be so controlled? Even in this situation?

"Relax." He half utters, half demands as his hands once more begin coasting up my inner thigh and gliding in circular motions around the thin, supple flesh.

I can't help but think he does this to torture me. He must know how much I hate foreplay. Sure it's enjoyable… but with him, I don't want it. I want him in me. I want our bodies to become one, for that small amount of time we get; I want to simply feel him inside of me.

My thought is cut short, however, when I feel my already perked nipple get taken into his wet mouth. I gasp at the suddenness but quickly rebound to my usual incoherent slurs and moans of pleasures when his teeth prick the nub of my nipple before he begins sucking on it feverishly.

"Ah!" I moan when his tongue alternates between flicking the sensitive area to sucking it dry.

My hands dig themselves inside the flowing raven hair, entwining my fingers with the satiny locks of ebony. I drive my fingers through it as he continues to suck on my newly sore nipple. After a few more avid sucks, his lips detach themselves and move onto my other neglected nub, the feeling once more overflowing my body with boundless ecstasy.

His hands have yet to ease up on their caress over my thigh, but soon begin to slither up towards my torso as his mouth finally unclamps from my swollen nipple.

His lips trail down my abdomen, his tongue still out and leaving behind its own trail of moisture along the middle ridge of my abs before landing on my navel and twirling around inside it, the action driving my stimulation to incomprehensible degrees.

I feel the coiling in my lower regions becoming intolerable.

"Byakuya…please…" I can't help but whine, though my words escape as a strange squeak. "Please put it in…"

I see his perfectly angled brow arch upwards and his beautifully lined lips crease deeper before he releases a small sigh and finishes lifting his head away from my stomach.

"You need to learn to be more patient," he asserts. His hands clamp onto my thighs and tear them wider apart, allowing for a larger amount of room for his own body. "I want to enjoy this."

I watch as his hand takes hold of the small bottle that had been lying beside me, and watch him squirt a small amount of the substance on his fingers, then drives the newly soaked fingers towards me.

"Mnnn," I hum as his finger skims along my entrance and circles it lazily; the cool touch feels marvelous against my heated flesh. His eyes are still glued on me, observing me in what seems like intrigue as his finger continues to teasingly run around my entrance with little attempt to drive itself inside.

Unable to bear it, my hand glides down towards Byakuya's own teasing hand and positions itself alongside it. I push past the fondling hand and press my index finger against my puckered entrance, hissing between my teeth when I manage to drive it partially inside. I feel my insides further coil as my finger squeezes through my tight muscles. Before I am able to relish in the wonderful feeling, my hand is being pried out of the area and tossed to the side like slab of meat.

I feel the urge to whine but quickly cease in my desire to protest upon catching glimpse of the less than please expression that has managed to crawl onto Byakuya's face.

"If you are interested in doing it yourself, then I see no point in me being here." He states coarsely, his voice cold and somber, clearly upset for my 'unthinkable' action.

My eyes widen when I watch him begin to veer away from me and I quickly clamp my hands on his arms.

"I-I'm sorry," I quickly sputter, my heart already beating brutally against my chest. My neediness…it'll drive him away at some point, but not now…not today… I won't let it. I just can't help it. I love him so much it hurts. Is it a crime to want him so much? "Please don't leave…"

Don't leave me…

"I-I just-" I babble stupidly and feel my face burn brighter when his eyes bore into me. Those eyes, their scrutiny is still unbearable, and though it is, I want it, all of it. "I just…I-I wan- Ah!" I scream out, my head flinging backwards when I feel two of his fingers forcefully shove inside me with little warning.

"You just wanted what?" He muses and I clench my jaws when he pulls them apart slightly. "Just wanted this?"

"Ahh!" I bang my head against the large pillow beneath me as his fingers shove into me with enough force to make my insides stir wildly. His fingers pound into me with little mercy, not that any is needed, with every word he utters.

This pain…no…it's not pain, it's never been pain, this feeling drives me wild, more so because it's him. He's the one giving me this pleasure; it's his hand, his touch. It's not the same when I do it myself. The countless times I've done it and thought of him, it was never the same.

His touch is the only one I want.

"This is what you like isn't it?" He purrs, his silvery voice making my crotch twitch. His fingers continue to dig into the deepest part of me and I arch into them, wanting more, more of that incredible feeling.

His fingers thrust inside me quickly, before parting open and beginning to scissor me. I feel my muscles begin to loosen with each heavy thrust of his fingers and mewl in the uttermost ecstasy, because they're his fingers, his eyes glued on me, his lust. But it's not enough. I want more, more of him, all of him.

"B-Byakuya…more…" I whisper breathlessly and watch his head cock to one side.

"More?" He repeats, his brows folding inwardly though I know he is not the slightest bit confused. "More of what?"

"Hnnn!" I burst out unrelenting, my back further arching. I bite down on my lip forcefully as his fingers fondle something inside of me that makes my body twitch in pleasure.

He's leaning into me once more, a slight curl to his lips indicating his clear enjoyment of my jerking state, his fingers never failing to continue hitting that one spot in me that has my vision slightly blurred. "Tell me what it is you want." He breathes against my face, the sweet sugary smell of it knocking my own breath out of me.

I want you, you idiot. All of you. But you'll never see me as more than this. It's degrading for me, but I'm fine with it. It's better to have you as this, than not have you at all. I'll be your sex toy, until you grow tired of me, I'll be it.

"You…" I whimper softly, opening my legs wider apart. "…inside."

His lips, no longer interested in showing restraint, now fully showcase his grin, still light and hardly noticeable, almost non-existent one might even think. That is, if you did not know him. That small almost non-visible grin is clear to me who have grown used to watching his usual apathy filled features.

"Very well." He states in acquiescence and I can't bite back the smile that rips out of me at the pure joy coursing through every one of my veins.

My breath hitches when he yanks his fingers out of me abruptly and his hands both take grip of my thighs pushing them apart to such an extent I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable, but I push back the unease.

I watch as he takes hold of his heavily dripping length and further lathers it in the cool lubricant, eyes still glued on me, smirk as present as ever.

He gives a few teasing strokes to his shaft and I watch as the sticky liquid draws out and glides down it before he properly positions himself between my legs and in a second manages to have his erection pressed tightly against my entrance.

I feel my breath catch in my throat as he begins to slowly prod into me. I grit my teeth and allow my hands to clasp his own arms tightly as he slowly penetrates me, his length driving itself past my twitching and tightening ring of muscles.

"Ngh…" I mewl as he finishes closing in the distance and fully enters me.

The last time he was in me was quite some time ago. I had become so used to dealing with my own needs, I had forgotten for a slight second how delicious it felt to have his thickness inside of me. My fingers, they don't compare to him.

He pauses momentarily while inside me and allows our lips to once more come in contact. My tongue immediately seeks refuge inside his warm cavern, in search for his intoxicating taste. Upon allowing me entrance, his tongue quickly comes out to play, in a prompt instance dwindling my own into its chew toy.

My legs once more re-clamp around his midsection and I allow myself to move subtly, enough to let my desires be known. I don't want him to wait. I want him to move. I want him to make me his.

He catches on quickly and in what feels like a mere second pulls almost fully out of me before stealthily thrusting back inside whilst his teeth gently nibble on my lips. "Nnnha!" I cry into his mouth and am greeted with a sharp bite to my tongue.

His hips begin to piston in and out of me, driving his throbbing erection with it and pushing past my scorching clamping insides. With each thrust he allows himself to almost fully exit me before reentering me with a still-restrained amount of force.

"Hnnn….Byakuya…." I moan into his lips and tug at his hair, allowing his lips to part for a fraction of a second before he once more caves in on my mouth to ravage every bit of it. The kiss is short this time, as he once more separates himself from me but this time places his lips directly below my jaw.

Every thrust allows a plethora of shivers to arise from my spine.

The sound of my haggard breathes and strangled moans of pleasures are interrupted only by our thrashing bodies slapping skins.

"aaahh…Byakuya…" I dig my face into his shoulder, my pulsating muscles clamping around his heated, wet length with each delicious thrust and grip onto him for dear life.

Love…this feeling, only you can cause it.

His movements, much to my aggravation, stop again and before I am able to protest I feel his hands clamp down on my pelvic bone, his fingers digging into my flesh and his hard breathes beat against my skin.

"Byakuya?"

His response is given in the form of a harsh bite taken to the underlying skin beneath my chin. "This is what you want isn't it?" He questions and for some reason I feel my stomach clench at the underlying tone behind it. I can't put my finger on it, nor do I wish to. "More…"

His hands iron-like grip on my pelvis has grown tenfold and I wince at the discomfort of having my skin penetrated by his fingers.

In a matter of a second my eyes are once more screw open and my lips purse outwards relinquishing a much needed wail as Byakuya drives his throbbing length inside me to the hilt with such force my eyes blank out for a few seconds.

"Ah! Fu- Ahh!" I scream out and writhe beneath him as he rams into my twitching heat with such unexpected force. His ferocity seems inhuman and I find myself whimpering like a hurt puppy.

His teeth clench on my jaw line with another forceful bite and I feel a warmness begin to glide down my neck.

Removing my hand from his hair I quickly replace it with the disheveled linen beneath me and clench my eyes shut. I inhale sharply as he provides another vicious ramming into my searing entrance, apparently no longer interested in showcasing any of his much prided self-restraint and I can't help but continue to groan in agony as my head fills to the brim with fog.

"Ghh!"

I knew I felt his hunger was much more than usual today.

"W-wai- ahhh! B-Byakuy...hah!" I stammer, unable to get a full word out, the pain controlling my lower region is almost paralyzing.

"You want more don't you?" He grunts into my ear before his teeth are gnawing at my earlobe, and his engorged member continues to pound into me mercilessly.

"W-what… are you…?" I stutter behind broken breaths as he refuses to ease up on his unconcerned actions.

"You feel so good…" He moans into my ear, his teeth unclenching and freeing my punctured neck. "…So warm…"

His speed once more lowers but he continues driving into me, this time at a steady slightly more bearable pace. His hand's grip on my hips falters. The same hands begin to dig themselves beneath my back and wrap themselves around me.

"You feel good, too, don't you?" He whispers lovingly. The change in his tone is evident and painful as hell.

My eyes widen and my insides feel like they've begun to rot upon realizing what is happening.

I should've known. It never fails from occurring. These movements…this voice…these words…they aren't for me. I don't know why I thought it'd fail from happening today, just wishful thinking I suppose, because this is the reason for why I'm here isn't it?

But I can't help but plead…

Please don't…

Please…

"Hisana…" He breathes into my neck and I feel my eyes begin to burn viciously.

My insides throb in disgust. The superfluous amount of pleasure that had previously overtaken my body seems to have dissipated instantly and is replaced with an overbearing venom-like acid arising from my throat.

I don't have to turn my head to face him to know his eyes are closed. It's always like this.

But of course they would be. They always are. Why wouldn't they? Then he wouldn't be able to picture her, now would he?

It hurts.

I flip my head further away from him, attempting to evade his face which is still digging itself into my neck…no…into her's and curse myself when I feel a warm liquid cloud my vision.

Why am I so upset over this? My stupidity never ceases to amaze me.

It's always like this. It's always been like this, so I can't cry. If I do I'll surely be securing my place in his life. I'll no longer be anything.

I swallow down the knot that has begun to form in my throat and feel it go down like a clot of jabbing needles.

His grip tightens on my waist and his lips begin lining my neck in tender kisses.

"Why have you stopped?" He whispers into my skin and every bit of me feels as though it is breaking.

Why do I do this to myself?

"…Stopped…what…?" I mumble almost completely inaudibly. I realize his movements have stopped again.

"Screaming for me. Are you not enjoying yourself?"

It depends…

Are you speaking to me?

"Hm?" He questions softly, his hand detaches itself from my waist and begins to graze my cheek gently.

Slowly his movements return, and I feel his length begin to once more thrust in and out of me. His heavy breathes return and his lips place another kiss atop my neck.

"My love…"

I feel my stomach clench again.

"Cry for me…"

It hurts so much…but I continue doing this to myself. I seem to enjoy this.

"Mmm…" I force my lips to deliver a convincing sound and he apparently buys it because his speed increases and for a second I actually want to provide sincere moans…but I refuse to provide my true moans anymore. No. Not anymore.

Because though he is inside me, he's not. He's inside her. And though I know this, I want him. I want his body against mine, even though he's no longer with me.

But this is my fault. I got him used to this.

Was this what I wanted?

True, I wanted him, but not this. This isn't what I want. But I've become too stagnant. Though this is not what I want, this is what I've always had. Did I think anything would change? This is what I've caused.

No.

We both did this. We are both to blame, but why the hell do I feel like I got stuck with the short end of the stick? Maybe because I did.

His movements are becoming more erratic by the second, his breathing steeper, heavier. I feel his hands grip tighten on my waist and draw in a breath as he bites down on my lip.

Though it pains me, I can't help but wrap my arms around his midsection. My hands clasp onto his sweat-slicked back and I allow my eyes to connect with the discerning grey orbs. Though those magnificent eyes are staring straight at me, I know they don't see me. I know they see her.

I know he's nearing, his movements are a clear indication, and though with every thrust he is managing to plunge into that marvelous spot that would otherwise have me going wild, every part of me feels numb.

When did I become like this?

I was perfectly content with the simple fact that he was with me, even if he called out to her, I was happy. But now…I can no longer control this seeping ache. It's been growing with each passing day, expanding from its root and entangling my heart in a mess of thorny vines. And though with each passing day, its grip on me tightens and though I feel my heart will give out at any given minute, I can't help it.

I love this man, I always have, and if this is the only way I can have him, then I'm fine.

I am.

I'll push back this pain and swallow every bit of it, because though he is her's, in the deepest reserves of my mind, he will continue to be mine and this body will continue to be his; Here for his bidding until he no longer needs it.


	2. This endless cycle

Italics = Song: Arms of sorrow By Killswitch Engage

Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me.

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><p>In Love's Chokehold<p>

Chapter 2: This endless cycle.

The echoes of my voice

Follow me down

The shadows I cast

Follow me down

XXX

Seventeen years. We've been joined at the hip for that long.

Joined in other places for twelve.

In utter misery for four.

And in love's deathbed for one.

Well…I suppose the last one might only pertain to me.

But the misery, I know he's in it too. That's why we do this isn't it? We're both suffering for our mistake.

But of course, I still feel I've gotten it worst. That's just me and my selfishness though, I suppose.

Whatever.

I'll be selfish. When he feels this pain I feel. The one suffocating me and sucking me dry like a bloodthirsty parasite, leaving me as nothing but a mere desiccant vassal, then I'll consider us both on the same boat. But until then, he will never receive my pity.

He can't be worse off than me. No. I'm helping him, while he's destroying me, unbeknownst to him of course. Though I'm sure he must notice. How can he not? Then again, he doesn't notice many things.

Twisting my prone body sideways I allow my arm to fall limp before me atop the disheveled mattress before curling my elbow slightly and gently running my hands by the silk linen enveloping it. Slowly I edge my way over towards the empty side of my bed, the newly abandoned area that was previously inhabited by a certain male whose absence has once more managed to leave me empty.

I dig my face into the mattress upon finally positioning myself in his previous spot.

His alluring scent, it's still embedded on the silken sheets.

My grip on the sheet tightens and I allow myself to take it in, take in his scent. I grip my eyes shut and picture him here. Holding me. Loving me. He's not here though, but he is. I can feel him.

Byakuya…

Why am I so torn?

This pain, it's for you, but you don't see it Byakuya. Do you even see me anymore?

In my quest to aid you, I've become tarnished and broken.

How can you not see it?

I wish I could hate him for doing this to me, I wish I could hate myself, but then again I guess I do. I do hate myself. I could've stopped it, but I didn't, because secretly, in some deep part of me I always wanted him. But I was ashamed, ashamed of those feelings that had begun to harbor in me. At the time I held little understanding of it, for Christ sakes I was nothing but a kid. Eleven years old to be exact. Would that have been normal? I didn't think so at the time either. I knew it must have been wrong. I felt it was. But I did it anyway.

And so I tried, I tried desperately to hide the glint of joy I received whenever he spoke to me, looked at me, touched me.

Touched me.

That's the one.

That's the one that's got me where I am now, that was where it began.

I shouldn't say that. Technically it began with,

But mommy and daddy have to kiss!

A child's innocence, it truly is the epitome of ignorance.

Being kids, we saw nothing wrong with what we did. I still feel we did nothing wrong, but then again my mental stability has become quite questionable recently.

Would anything have changed had we known what would come of it?

We meant nothing by it. But it was like a drug, once we had a taste, we wanted more. And that's what we got. More.

That small 'forced' kiss was the start of it all.

That feeling, his lips against mine, their warmth, their feather-like feel, it left me breathless.

I know he felt it too, that's what drove us, drove us to try more, to want more.

We enjoyed the feeling we received and so we decided we wanted more, we wanted it all.

I guess our curiosity got the best of us. We let our desires control us. Our restraint at the time, well, it was non-existent. We were kids. I guess that should be considered an adequate excuse. I guess. If not, whatever. It's the one I'll continue using.

The first time he touched me. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand the feeling that had taken grip of me. My body quivered at his touch. The heat surging through me was inexplicable, numbing, yet pleasant. It was different. Foreign. But god did it feel right.

Our bodies, they became exploration sites for the both of us. Every inch of my body, he grew to know and vice-versa.

It started with simple touches, simple, yet numbing touches that drove our bodies into inconceivable highs.

The kisses, they changed. No longer were they the simple grazing embrace we had grown accustomed to. They deepened, our tongues joined, they became the first way in which our bodies connected.

But the more we got, the more our bodies craved.

Until one day, we gave our bodies to each other, though in theory, because though we partook in such activity I know there was nothing there –not through his part that is- But I, I was wholeheartedly delved in him.

This became a daily occurrence, and with each, my feelings for him sprouted, expanded and began to unwittingly suffocate me. Yet he held no emotional connection to me.

This went on for twelve years.

For twelve years my body was his entirely and his was mine. No. I'm wrong. I never thought his was, because though he was with me daily, though he managed to devour every inch of my body with his own, he had his own life. While my heart was sewn on my sleeve for him, he was with them. He never put a cease to his regular life, as he grew, he experienced things, he experienced love, but not for me. No. I was simply there. I was there when he returned. I was his plaything, nothing more, nothing less.

We were friends at one point, best friends, though our relationship could have easily been classified as something else, thus our bond was always there, tight, unbreakable, sealed like cement and seemed to form overnight. I would say he could have been considered my brother, but I'll refrain from making such a statement, because brothers wouldn't have done what we did. But that was at one point. We are no longer much of anything, anything wanted that is.

Our high school years, I should say those were the worst, mostly because, I saw his life unfurl, unfurl without me. I was there, but I wasn't, I was only in bed. I saw the many girls draped over him like starving hyenas. I saw him experience what he considered his 'first love', I watched him love her, I watched him suffer for her, I watched him smile with her.

I could have easily driven myself into desperation, thus it was agonizing, his cruelty.

I was forced to sit back and watch, watch it all, while my heart slowly shriveled. The only thing that managed to support me, the slightest bit of me that was able to remain from crumbling to the dirt, was the idea that things would never get far with her. It was a good sustenance. You see, I watched as many came and I watched as many left, so why would she be any different?

Boy was I wrong.

She was the one. The one he wanted. The one he 'loved'.

What a hypocritical bastard, how dare he say he loved her when he was still with me? Touching me, holding me, making me his for every goddamn day.

And though I watched him hold her, kiss her, devote himself to her, I couldn't stop it. I wanted him. It killed me, the thought of him ever leaving me. I know it shouldn't have. He was never truly with me. His body was, but that was all. But I couldn't. I was terrified, terrified of never having him with me again. My dreams were filled to the brim with nothing but him. My dreams provided comfort. In them, he belonged to me. In them we were happy, but that couldn't be farther from the truth, and in reality I suppose they should have really been considered cruelty from my part, because when I awoke I realized I was back to nothing. I had nothing.

But the problem, though this was one heck of a problem on its own, truly expanded when he decided he wanted to take his relationship with her further.

Yeah. He told me. I guess in his head I was still his best friend. Clueless. But I still loved that clueless, cruel guy. He confided in me, though I wished he wouldn't, he did. He wished to finally make her his. How selfish of him to even think I'd want to hear such a thing. I can't help but wonder why I still love him.

But at the time, I wasn't angry with him. I was angry with myself. I had failed at keeping him interested, at keeping him with me. Was I not enough? Was I not satisfying him? There's was probably more I could've done. I used to think that.

In reality, there was nothing more. I had given him my all, anything more was non-existent. He had all of me.

But that was where.

I guess my damnations and my ill-sentiment for them manifested…because he came back to me, broken as ever, but he did. I remember my bafflement, my utter confusion at it all, all he said.

He couldn't do it. No. I guess I should rephrase that. He did do it, but it wasn't the same. His body, he said, didn't react the way it should have, the way he wanted it to, the way it did with me. I could sense every bit of pain in his words. I knew how much he loved her, but should I have felt like dirt because I was glad? Glad? No, I was ecstatic. It was hard for me to even speak with fear of uttering the wrong words, the words dying to rip out of me, the words of joy that would surely showcase my insensibility in the matter. Though I don't see how I should have been the one to care so much about that, seeing as how all he was putting me through was much more insensible than anything I could say.

His body had become beset with me. The years our bodies knew nothing more than one another, I suppose that was it. His body was simply accustomed to me. I guess. What other reason could there be? But why was I to feel guilty that his body had somehow become so attached to me?

I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have felt the slightest of guilt, and it shouldn't have become my problem, but it did.

You see, at the moment I had been in utmost glee, because I was sure that that would surely be sufficient in deterring the sham of a relationship they were in. But again, I was wrong.

He was not willing to relinquish what they had.

What they had...

I scoff at that. I laugh and I spit on that.

How strong could that have been if you were still fucking me Byakuya? How? Every goddamn day she fell for one of your stupid excuses, Every fucking day you left her alone to come to me, to have me, how strong was that bullshit relationship you both had….both still have. When you made love to her, when you attempted to make love to her, you were thinking of me weren't you? No. Not of me, but of my body. But it was still my body! And you were fucking thinking of it! Not hers because hers was never enough! It's still not enough!

I fucking hate you.

My hand clasps my chest tightly and I curse every bit of myself when I feel a trickle of liquid slither down my face.

I hate you so much. But I'm nothing but a liar, a bad one at that.

I wish I truly did. I wish with every bit of me that I hated you, perhaps then I would be able to cut these strings that bind us together. But I can't.

Why couldn't I be enough for you? Why am I still not enough?

But I'm still the one to blame. I am. I'll always be, because I agreed to continue to be there. Be there when he needed me, when he wanted me, when he wanted her. I had always been there, but now, I was forced to become her. He didn't want me, he made it blatantly clear. He wanted her and only her. Unfortunately her body wasn't enough, it's still not enough.

I can't help the laugh that I emit, though it sounds more like a sob.

Bringing my hands up to my dripping face I slap at the liquid harshly.

He doesn't deserve them…but they won't stop falling.

I became his toy, nothing more than his toy. A toy he seems to thoroughly enjoy.

But he enjoys me nonetheless. That's fine.

Hisana…you're welcome.

Truth be told, the only reason he's with you right now is because of me. You can't satisfy him. So what if he loves you? That can easily fade without the physical connection as well, don't you think? But I've been keeping him satisfied. I'm feeding his hunger, something you can't do. Because of me he hasn't grown tired of you.

You're welcome.

Groaning in displeasure I resolve to finally getting out of bed. Being here is doing nothing for me. This room, it has nothing but unwanted memories, memories that feel free to drown me when alone. The silence mocks me. The bed mocks me. My thoughts, they'll continue to mock me.

Using my slightly trembling arms, I press both hands down against the bed and deliberately push myself upwards. My legs twist towards the end of the bed and fall to hang out over its edge. Inching my hand towards my lowering back, I press into it as I begin to slowly lift myself from the bed, wincing at the pricks of pain the spread through the lower half of my body.

His roughness last night, that was new.

I wonder what his excuse to her will be this time.

My stupidity, it should be considered a crime. Though every inch of me is pained and my life feels like nothing but a hole devoid of anything but misery and unrequited love, why do I give myself the pleasure of feeling like I'm winning? When in reality, I've been nothing but a fool, a loser, nothing. She's the winner in this. She's always been.

They're married now, have been for four years.

But I'm still here.

I know it's wrong but I can't stop it. I can't get myself to. I'd rather have him as this, than not have him at all, even if it's wrong, even if I'm being selfish. I want him for my own. When he's with me, he will continue to be mine even if not.

My body flinches when a sudden ring reverberates around my opaque bedroom. The sudden eruption of sound in the once deafeningly silent space causes my eyes to squint in discomfort and irritation.

My eyes dart towards my bedside drawer to catch my quivering cell phone.

"Ahn…" I hiss lowly as I finish lifting myself from the bed, the twitching nerves in my lower body causing my legs to buckle slightly.

Slowly, deliberately, my legs carry me towards the source of the annoying disturbance and I grip onto it.

I release a discontented sigh upon flipping the phone open and catching the flashing name pop up on the screen.

I allow it to ring.

After a few more seconds the noise ceases and the blinking subsides.

Unable to enjoy the return of my much desired silence, the noise begins again almost instantly and I groan in distaste before finally giving in and bringing the phone to my ear.

Before I am able to get a word in, the much too familiar voice erupts from the other line.

"I called you last night." The voice; gravelly, the displeasure in it as clear as the chilling air currently enclosing my bedroom.

My hand climbs towards my neck and scratches at it feebly, my head cocking to one side, as I attempt to concoct a proper excuse.

"I was…busy." I croak, my voice cracked and brittle.

Not a great one.

Whatever.

"Busy?" He questions, though I can tell by his voice he desires no answer. Not that I care, I'm not too willing to provide. "You were with him weren't you?"

And that's why.

Silence engulfs us both, as neither of us chooses to speak. Because the words are futile. I don't need to respond. He knows, and if he didn't, the silence must have surely validated him.

After what feels like a few minutes of nothing but silence, he speaks once more.

"I want to see you." He says, though it sounds more as a demand.

"Not to-"

"Please." He urges, his voice dripping in vomit inducing desperation. "Ichigo…"

My mind swirls like an angry tornado, hoping to somehow come up with an excuse to get me out of this unwanted get-together but failing miserably and instead leaving me like a babbling fool.

"I...I have …to…"

"Please, Ichigo."

There's no fathom for my irritation at my brains slow-wittedness.

Sighing in defeat, I shake my head loosely.

"Whatever…" I mumble nimbly, while my hand crawls over towards the side of my neck and grazes it airily before remaining propped in position.

"I'll be there in a few minutes. Come down when you're ready."

"W-wait, what? It's only sev-" I begin, before I hear a discerning click. "Shuuhei!" I call out; though it's clear to me it's pointless.

Heaving a heavy breath, I slam my cell phone shut before flinging it across my bed and hearing the clunk it makes after skidding over and falling back over its edge, landing roughly on the tiled floor.

* * *

><p>My head digs itself further into the vinyl seat's headrests; my eyes continue gazing at the passing scenery. The snow lidded streets seem to glisten as the sun casts its gentle rays atop the cotton-like whiteness enclosing every inch of it.<p>

My hands grip onto my knees tightly before I dare a glance over at the male beside me, who has yet to utter a single word.

"Where are we going?" I finally break the ever-present silence.

I watch as his eyes shoot a quick glance over at me before returning to their forefront.

"You were with him again." He states tonelessly, but I can sense it, sense the hurt in his words.

I feel something in me begin to crumble but I push it back and allow my insides to re-build themselves, because there's no reason, no reason for my guilt.

I allow my eyes to return to my window and continue staring out of it, taking notice of the slowly diminishing establishments and homesteads.

I wish I could feel no guilt, but somehow it manages to continue crawling into every depth of me.

Shuuhei… I don't know what we would be considered. I know we are more than friends, though the concept has gotten sketchier with each passing day. We're not together, though he wishes we were, but I do sleep with him…so…what would that be considered?

For the past two years, he's been around.

Our relationship began as nothing more than a budding scholar friendship. Simple acquaintances. We attended the same university, and like me he was interested in engineering, I guess that was what even drove me to pay any attention to him. Besides that, he didn't seem like the type of person I'd spend much time around or even attempt to acquaint myself with. After speaking with him for the first time I noticed his ever-present joy, his humor, and those were others that seemed to draw me in, his ability to turn the simplest of things into a comedic show. I liked that. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him like that recently.

I refuse to believe it has something to do with me…though some deep part of me already knows.

Our relationship grew steadily and soon we had managed to grow a sufficiently well-rounded friendship. The friendship, however, was short lived, because shortly after he confessed his feelings of affection towards me. At the time, it had taken me completely off-guard. Not only because it had been my first confession, especially by a guy, but because he was the first person to ever truly catch my eyes as something I felt could be more. For a brief moment I had been glad.

So yeah, we slept together, and various other times after that. I guess I thought that would change something, but it did no such thing, if anything it only complicated it all, because I couldn't let him go.

But though it did, I still sleep with him.

"Ichigo…"

I don't want him to call me.

I know what he'll say. He says it all the time. I'm tired of it.

"Why do you do this?"

I feel my insides begin to sizzle but I refuse to provide any acknowledgement to the question. Mostly because…I wouldn't know how to answer. I never know how to, but he always asks. I don't know why though, it's not like he really wants to hear it. I know he's scared of the answer.

My eyes continue gazing at the now growing greenery, almost completely cloaked in freshly fallen snow, and I once more have the urge to ask where we are headed but refuse to, in fear of having him speak again.

"Ichigo, please..."

So much for wishful thinking.

"Why do you care?" I reply blandly, though I know my voice must have sounded rather indignant.

My eyes bulge open when the car takes a sudden unexpected swerve, the force shoving me against the car door, and comes to an abrupt halt. My head rings, before my eyes dart around nervously, looking for some sort of explanation as to what had just happened but finding instead a set of steely grey orbs staring over at me in what seemed like rage.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I snap, my hands flinging themselves before me in outrage, attempting to somehow switch the tables around.

"Why do I care? How can you ask that?" He asks in disbelief.

My eyes unwittingly evade his own and dart towards my knees.

I should have stayed home.

"Are you that heartless?" He says thickly. The words manage to knock the air out me in what feels like a deft and painful blow to the gut.

Heartless?

My brow fold inwardly and I allow my lips to crease a well-enough extent to showcase the anger that had managed to envelop me with the uttering of such decimating word.

"Heartless?" I ask gruffly, hoping my eyes are sufficient in searing him to bits.

"Heartless." He reiterates, apparently not the least bit bothered by the ill-intended glare being sent his way. "There's no other word to describe what you're doing. You know how I feel, but you're still wi-"

"I don't need to hear this." I mutter indignantly, no longer interest in anything more his lips have to utter, mostly because his words will surely destroy me. My hand, already clutching the door's handle, shoves it open and I grit my teeth at the sudden burst of biting winter air whipping past.

"Ichigo," He grips my other arm in a vice-like grip, his eyes no longer demonstrating his previous coarseness and instead showcasing something else, something I can't bear to stare at.

"He doesn't love you. He never will. Don't you see he's using you?"

I feel my breath's drive out of me as heavy uncoordinated rasps, the thumping in my chest growing increasingly with each word his lips have the audacity to utter.

"But I do Ichigo. I love you, why is it so hard to see!"

I snatch my arm away and complete making my exit, making sure to slam the car door with enough brutal force to reiterate every bit of bitter rage. Rage that even I hold little knowledge of where its destination truly lays. I wish it were for him. But I can't, for the life of me, get myself to believe it is.

Drawing my arms over my eyes as the wind whips past me, with it carrying freefalling bits of snow, my legs trudge along the heavily lidded road, my eyes taking full notice of the absence of anything but the awfully devoid road and multiple oaks on either side.

"Ichigo!" I hear him call out, the sound prompting my feet to pick up speed.

I don't want to hear anymore. I don't need to hear anymore.

My feet continue to carry me away from him and before I notice they have broken into brisk dash, as the crunching of his own steps become closer to mine.

"Ichigo! Wait!"

My hard huffs of air cause a small cloud puff around my face like mist and my legs buckle slightly when my feet trip on an upturned piece of concrete from the road.

"Ichigo!"

My arm shakes rabidly and I knock it to one side brutally as I feel his arm take hold.

"Let go!" I cry out, still attempting to shake his gloved hand from my arm.

"No, just listen to me please!" He begs unyieldingly.

But I can't. I can't hear anymore.

"Let go!" I exclaim, using my free hand to shove him away before it drives itself onto his still-clenched hand and pries at it to pull my arm free.

"Ichigo…" He says softly.

But I'm scared to look up. I'm scared to meet his eyes. I can't do it.

"No! Stop making me feel I should feel guilty for anything! You knew about all of this! You've stuck around because you've wanted to! No one's holding you back!"

I finally manage to pry his hands off of my arm and begin to slowly edge backwards and away from him.

"I'm sticking around because I care about you." He says lowly, his voice losing its prior umbrage.

He begins walking towards me, but those eyes…I can't.

My back slams itself onto one of the oaks and I claw my fingers into it, feeling the biting chill envelop my uncovered hands. My eyes dart towards my feet, refusing to acknowledge the icy grey orbs that would surely suffice in allowing me to break down.

"Ichigo…"

Please don't call me.

His hands press themselves on either side of me, his forehead following suit but pressing itself against my own.

"Please…please…no more." I whisper to him, pleading with every bit of me he listens.

He does.

We both remain silence.

I feel the warmth of his breath reverberate against my exposed flesh and feel a shiver wash through me. Our breaths create a small misty fog around both of our faces and we remain there, unmoving as the small haze grows with each of our breaths that have now begun to leave in heavier huffs.

"I'm sorry…" He murmurs quietly.

I don't know why he's apologizing. He's not the one that should be.

My eyes daringly shoot upwards from their view of the ground to the eyes now only few inches away from my own.

I know I'm hurting him. I'm hurting myself. But I can't stop what I'm doing; I don't have the strength to.

My frostbitten hands detach themselves from the snowy oak and travel towards the front of his coat.

I flinch a bit when both of his hands remove themselves from their previous position. He brings both hands before him, in the small space available between our two bodies and begins to slowly remove his gloves, his forehead still promptly pressed against my own.

Upon finally fully removing them, I shake my head softly.

"No, Shuu, I don'-" I begin but before I am able to finish, I notice him tossing both gloves to the ground.

I begin to arch a brow in confusion but cease immediately upon having my hands get pulled away from his coat and taken into his own.

I sigh softly as I feel his heat reign over my algid hands.

"I won't let you keep running from me." He whispers quietly. His grip on my hands tightens and he presses them both to his chest before edging in to close the distance. "I won't let him win."

I don't want to run from him. But I don't want to hurt him…though I guess I'm failing in that department aren't I?

I'd rather have him far from me, because I can't stop myself, I can't stop doing this.

Byak…

I want to say his name, but for some reason…I can't right now.

But I don't love Shuuhei, I don't know what I feel for him, but I know it's not love. I know what love feels like. I've been feeling it for twelve years now.

I suck in a deep breath as I feel his body press itself into me; his eyes have yet to lose contact with my own.

Those eyes, those gentle eyes, I like them…but I don't love them… and I wish they'd stop loving me…though I'm not too sure.

No.

I don't want him to stop. Is that selfish of me? I wouldn't be surprised. I wish I could love him, love him like he deserves to be loved. But I can't. Because he's there. He's always there, and I can't say no to him, because my heart…he owns it. I want to forget him. I do. But I can't.

His hands unclamp from mine, allowing them to fall free beside my body.

I close my eyes when I feel his hand lead up to my face and begins to airily run by it, the warmth in his hand still present and allowing another set of shivers to run course through me and leaving my skin blemished in goosebumps.

"You're cold." He states matter-of-factly and my eyes once more screw open. "Let's go back."

His hand removes itself from my skin and his forehead finally cuts my own free. I don't understand it, but I get an overwhelming urge to whine.

"Come on."He says as he begins sauntering his way towards the car that I now notice is a considerable distance away from us.

Why am I so selfish? Why am I such a damn idiot?

I don't love him. I want him to forget me. Yet when he walks away, I want him back.

I don't know how the hell I should be feeling. He's not the one I crave for, he's not the one my body yearns for. But I can't set him free either.

My legs begin to subconsciously carry me towards him, what starts out as a slow steady walk, turns into a speedy dash. Before I notice, my hands are gripping his own.

His face swivels to meet me, slight confusion adorning his attractive features -I can't deny how physically attracted I am to him- and his lips begin to part in attempts to speak, but I don't let them, because as soon as they do I shove my own lips against them.

His lips hesitate slightly, I suppose mostly because of the sudden and unexpectedness of it all, but as soon as it came, it left, and his arm wraps itself around my waist pulling me closer to him. His other hand cradles my chin as our mouths begin their usual ritual and his unbelievably tender tongue coaxes its way past my lips. I allow myself to get sucked into our lips embrace and allow my hands to wrap themselves around his waist.

His kisses, they're not the same… but its fine.

He gives a small subtle nip at my lower lip before he detaches his mouth from mine and I watch as his lips curl slightly.

His smile, I like it too. It's not the same, but its fine.

"Ich-" He begins but I cut him off before he is able to complete his words.

"Help me." I say softly, the words sounding like a barely there whisper.

He simply stares at me, but I know. I know I don't have to say more. He understands, because both arms entwine around my torso and his lips close in on my forehead, pressing a tender kiss atop it.

I tighten my grip on him and hear him sigh in relief.

Please help me.

I can't let go of you, because in all truth's, you're all I have. As much as my heart aches at the thought, Byakuya isn't here. Before midnight hours, he doesn't even seem to exist. But you're here aren't you? Though you won't be for long. Not if I continue this. So please…

"Please…"

Give me strength to forget him.


	3. Bridled self

In Love's Chokehold

Chapter 3: Bridled self

What is 'self'? Our 'self' can simply be defined by our perceptive abilities; how we view the world around us, how we view ourselves.

But what happens when our own views are skewed? We are bound by superficial means of perception. Our senses, they are simply electro-chemical reactions by our brain based on different sensors our body possesses and brings forth when we experience things, be it touching, tasting, seeing, hearing. We rely on them to provide us with a proper view on things. But we don't all see, touch, taste, or even hear the same do we? No. In some cases, we do either.

But when taken into consideration, it is difficult to imagine we are nothing more than what our senses perceive.

Is there not more to us? Perhaps a soul? A spirit that is us, that only we possess thus it is the main identifier that separates us from all else?

That being so, am I nothing more than an empty shell, which relies purely on senses to both guide and build on to what would be considered 'me'? Is there nothing more to me? Whatever was must surely be gone now. Am I perhaps a being whose only concern now is how I can soothe and feed my own physical needs?

My emotional attachments are superficial. I consider the individual I 'love' as my 'love', not because we hold any emotional bindings, but because we possess this physical attachment, purely because my senses allow me to feel his velvety flesh, taste his candied lips, see his radiance, hear his enticing voice. That is all.

It pains to know it was not always like this, but as it stands now, there is nothing more. There can't be. Thus I know nothing of him. I no longer possess anything from him that differs from his physical exterior. His thoughts are unbeknown to me, his feelings likewise, his views, his life –the one out of this tainted relationship, though it should hardly be considered such- I know nothing of. So why do I love him? Simple, because we possess this physical attachment, because his body soothes my ever-growing hollowness, that is why I love this person. It's the only explanation my mind can concoct at the moment.

Figures.

But now, this physical attachment is on the verge of completely vanishing, through my own choice of course. Because I realize the little 'self' I do possess revolves around it.

This connection is destroying me, and I want it gone.

But since it defines me, when it does succeed in fading, what will become of me?

XXXXX

My inside's withering rouses once more as the phones' ringing commences for the umpteenth time tonight.

Bringing my knees closer to my chest, my arms fully enclose them in an airtight grip.

Every loud ring that reverberates inside the small and eerily silent space allows my already slowly diminishing resolve to further decrease, and my fortitude to crumble down like a pile of weathered bricks.

How many times has it rung tonight? I've lost track. I wish it'd stop.

As though on cue the ringing finally subsides, with it taking a large bound of my prior wavering and instead leaving behind a lingering cloud of gloom and longing.

Two weeks in from the promise. The promise I made myself, the promise I made him. Two weeks of slowly decaying will and increasing renegade.

Was I always this weak?

It had taken only one day, one day of his calls, one day of his unfulfilled needs, one day of his clearly necessary desires, for me to come to terms with how utterly weak I was -I am. How weak I am for him.

I am admittedly the one to blame for this though, again, I seem to enjoy this pain. I must.

I can easily un-jack the phone, but I don't. Just like I can easily answer and lay all straight; Tell him I no longer want this, tell him I've moved on –a blatant lie in its own right-, tell him whatever link we once shared was done and over with. I can, I really can…but I don't.

Once again the ringing begins. It seems to somehow grow louder with each call he makes. It's the same every day, every day he calls out to me. It's been so for the past two weeks now, without fail, without miss, drowning me.

I don't dare bother Shuuhei with any of it. I choose to leave him out of the picture. By that, I mean lie. Mostly because I can't bear the thought of telling him I've yet to set things straight. I don't have the strength to do so at the moment, thought I doubt I'd possess it any other given time. My body, for all it's worth, still fully belongs to Byakuya. It's him I crave in the middle of the night, him I want. And I can't help the pain that cripples me at knowing that he craves the same too. Not me of course, but my body. Or hers…whatever. It's me he has, or more correctly, had. Because I know I must put an end to it. I can't keep doing this to myself, but also, I can't keep doing this to Shuu. In a way, I can't help but feel a smidge of gladness that for once in what has felt like years I am thinking of him as well, not only I.

But again, I might continue to be just as selfish as always, because the mere thought that I am doing this for him, allows my insides to ease up on the prior guilt that had previously inhabited me; that guilt that had once almost fully succeeded in searing me to dust. I have somehow managed to free myself from it, well, at least so far. So long as I remain steady on the goal at hand, that goal being full detachment from this drug -more like poison.

The answering machine beeps quietly once more, and I can't help, though it shames me, that my ears perk up almost immediately – as it does each time the answering machine is reached- , as though in hopes that his voice would somehow break through. To tell me it missed me, ask where I've been, something, anything, anything that would show he truly cared of me, not only of this body I possess. But it does no such thing.

I just want to hear it though, though I clearly shouldn't. I do.

I miss it, that silvery, strident voice that manages to sink to the deepest depth of me. How I miss it.

I miss his touch, the manner in which his fingers so effortlessly glide over every inch of my body, owning every inch, enclosing every bit in his own. His tongue drifting airily past my flesh but leaving behind its fair share of goosebumps as I'd watch and feel him savoring me like the greatest of treats.

Before I realize my hand manages to glide itself into my loose-fitting sweats, situating itself atop the slowly forming bulge inside and gripping the moistening appendage.

I miss his warmth, that all-encompassing heat that exuded him and slowly transferred into my own equally kindled body.

My breath hitches in my throat and my legs begin to level each other out, both parting considerably in allowance for proper access. Before long my hand is stealthily pumping my now hardening member.

His hold on me, it never faltered. As he drove into me, his lips uttering sinful, yet glorious words, his arms remained tightly wrapped around me, with such force my breaths held no choice but escape my lips in strained lapses, but hell did it feel good.

Biting down the rim of my bottom lip, I squeeze my now erect arousal and relish in the feeling that flows through my body like a gushing river. Every bit of blood running through these very veins are ablaze with the feeling only he can provide. His mere thought, his mere image is enough to make me feel this way.

But, he's never touched me here, I suppose perhaps because it would only work to dilute his illusion. After all, it was not me he would make love to during those times.

In a matter of seconds I feel my heart pound rabidly against my ribcage, the pleasure becoming almost unsustainable.

"Ggh…" I mutter, clenching my teeth tightly and flinging my head against the wall behind me.

Freeing my other hand, which had been willfully clenched onto various threads on my carpeted floor, I quickly slide it inside my now lop-sided sweats and replace the pumping hand with the newly freed one as the other slithers down to my now twitching entrance.

This is now pure habit. This is what the thought of him brings me. Though it sickens me, I can't stop it. Every night it's the same. The calls simply add fuel to the already heavily burning fire.

As my finger positions itself beside my heavily craving entrance, another ring resonates around the apartment and my body flinches, my eyes fling open and my hands, as though instinctively, quickly drive out from their previous positions and prop themselves on either side of me.

Heaving a heavy sigh, my head slams itself onto the concrete wall behind me and my breaths elude me in haste.

The only thought currently racing through mind is rushing to answer the repeated call. With little thought, answer in compliance. Just once, once more. It wouldn't hurt anyone, really, it wouldn't. Just have him be the one to allow me release, this body is his indeed. Just to touch me one final time, once more. That's all I want. Once more and I'm sure everything will be fine.

"Nnn…" I whine irritably, pressing my arm against my forehead.

When did I become so pitiful?

As the phone rings what I know to be its final soundings, a new sound reaches my ear, the sound quickly prompting my legs to spring up from their plopped position on the floor and sending me bolting towards the machine. My hands grip onto its lengthy plug before hurriedly flinging the plug off and throwing it behind my bedside drawer.

"Ichigo?" The familiar voice calls out.

I try to dust off the nonexistent bits of dirt from my pants, disregarding the still ever-present bulge showcasing through and instead rushing to meet the new arrival.

"Ichigo?"

"Shuu…" I breathe as my eyes meet the cheerful brunette who is currently shrugging of his duffel bag and dropping it atop the small couch in my living room.

"Hey babe," He greets, his grin stretching far and wide as he deliberately removes his winter jacket and tosses it too atop the couch – something that would originally irk me greatly were it not for my current situation.

Unable to withstand my painfully growing needs much longer, I practically pounce on the unsuspecting male; my arms wrapping themselves around his neck, my body firmly pressing itself against his own and smash my lips against his unprepared ones.

This is another now-habitual occurrence. I need his body to ease my thirst, it's the only one I have at the moment and though I recognize my wrongdoing, I also recognize without this I'd easily crawl back to him.

But our relationship, me and Shuuhei's that is, is still a sketchy subject and for the time being, I'd much rather keep it as such. My mind is still tangled, I need time. Possibly more than he can allow.

I suppose I may have used a substantial amount of force because shortly after the subtle taste of copper manages to appear vaguely in my own now viciously lapping mouth.

"Mnn…babe…" He manages while gently freeing himself from my lip's clutches and uses his hand to cup my cheek in his palm. "Someone missed me?"

Another quick bind of guilt begins to painstakingly slither its way inside me, but I disregard it as quickly as it appears and instead nod my head feebly.

What is that saying? What you don't know won't hurt you? Sad to say that this has become my philosophy.

His eyes lower and soon catch onto the protruding issue flattened against him.

"Guess so," He purrs loftily and in a matter of seconds manages to have my legs hooked on either side of him, whilst he carries me upwards in his arms. "I'll take care of that."

* * *

><p>"Ichigo, let's go get our lunch,"<p>

Swiveling my head idly, I allow my eyes to come in contact with the pixie-headed brunette beside me whose fingers tap the top of her elbow-draped purse hurriedly.

I shoot a final weary glance at the glowing screen before me. Having had originally planned on skipping lunch in hopes of advancing in some of the billing that had caught up to me due to my now overzealous mind whose constant drifting had grown increasingly throughout the past few days. The previous night's events, however, preoccupied most of my mind at the moment and was still more than fresh and bringing about in great abundance its share of guilt and shame. However, the overflow of words currently showcased on the computer screen seemed to test my previous resolve.

Guess it wins out as I begin to lazily rise from my perched seat with a silent yawn and arms outstretching before me.

"Let's go."

My head tilts upwards, eyes closed alongside it as I feel the brisk winter air whisk past me. The chilling effect welcomed and needed by obligation. The whipping jolt it provides is almost sufficient in allowing the forever looming haze that currently encloses me to slowly subside –for the time being that is- as I know that once I escape its presence it would once more reign over me.

The sun's rays beam today, though they might as well not, seeing as how its warming effects are unattainable. They tint the inside of my lids a light scarlet hue I somehow find comforting.

"Are you going to eat or just loaf around?" Tatsuki mutters between bites and quick chews.

I allow my eyes to squint open a diminutive slit and notice the irritation that has managed to crawl onto her usual mellow features.

"Does it bother you?" I reply monotonously before once more clamping my eyes shut.

It's unnecessary for me to look at her as I can sense the eye-roll she is sending my way at the moment.

"Does it look like it d-" She attempts to rebuttal shrilly, I however cut her off prematurely.

"Then?"

She releases a hard huff and I bite back the urge to smirk. It amuses me to no extent just how easily irritable she can be, and I never fail to push her buttons. Hey, I must do something for my own enjoyment.

"Look, the only reason I'm even out here is because you're bright ass seems to enjoy becoming permafrost." She snaps while simultaneously slamming, what I assume to be her hand, on the wooden table.

I allow my eyes to once more rouse open to enjoy the anguished look that is sure to cross her face at such an action and am not disappointed when I watch a slight hint of pain cross her vision- though she tries desperately to hide it.

"Who even eats outside in this weather?" She exclaims while holding both hands in the air.

My eyes take a quick glimpse of our surrounding, the mere action simply to entertain her statement momentarily before they once more glide over to her frame.

"Well, considering we're both eating out here at the moment…I'd say perhaps we d-"

"Don't be a smartass," She growls menacingly and by the look she shoots me, I can tell I should hold back on the sarcasm and smart-alecky remarks, that is unless I'd enjoy having my head miraculously shoved up my ass. Something in me tells me I wouldn't.

"It's a nice day," I say simply but finally resolve to lower my head from the heavens and back to the prepackaged meal set up before me.

Though it might seem a bit off to constantly insist on sharing our lunch out in the hospital lunch yard, being that it is mid-winter – this one seeming much colder than all the others- I can't help but urge. Truth is, I need the cool jolt, that's all there really is to it. It doesn't quite help that when I'm jailed up in that muggy shell of a cage they consider an office, I feel suffocated and stillborn. I suppose I should thank Tatsuki for being the friend that she is and actually choosing to cooperate with my nonsensical needs without insisting too much on an explanation, that is, until today apparently.

Using my thumb to pop off the lid of my container, I raise the bottle of juice beside my free hand and jam it into my mouth, gulping down the liquid paralleling in coolness to the air around me.

Tatsuki takes a victorious bite from the sandwich at hand as she watches me, clearly ecstatic I'm finally getting on with eating my meal simply because the faster I complete it, the quicker we can get our sore behinds back into the crammed office we have become slaves of.

See, I never quite imagined becoming a hospital clerk for the billing department. Though I guess I never quite imagined becoming someone's fuck toy either. My dream lay in studying engineering and hopefully becoming a great architect. That dream however was tarnished as I became blinded by a certain individual. Again, I am not really blaming him for anything, seeing as how the stupidity lays in me.

I had known Byakuya's main goal had always been to be involved in the healthcare industry. He hoped to one day become a successful general surgeon and with little doubt I knew he would succeed in his goal. Byakuya's strong will and drive, along with his undeniable intelligence would surely pave his way towards his intended aim. As for me, my dreams came to a gridlock as my only wish was to somehow follow in his footsteps and remain by his side.

I was never too bright really, but I did understand just how far my mental capacity stretched and as such I knew I would never succeed in making it in any career in medicine. I understood it took much hard work, drive and determination - a hell lot of it- and a large sum of financial stability – all something I was greatly lacking. And so, I came to the decision that I would instead join a career that would somehow allow me to at least share the same setting as he. Had I known I'd be waddling through life with a serious lack in aspirations and sense of purpose, I'd definitely chosen wiser.

As for Byakuya, his prodigal intelligence has easily driven him into his desired profession and with quite the velocity – managing to skid through his college years with ease through having taken higher level courses through much of it.

"Oh by the way…" Tatsuki begins, stopping momentarily to take a large gulp of her drink before continuing. "It's that time of the year again,"

I fiddle my meal idly as she continues; my appetite having had disappeared ages ago with little hopes of returning.

When after a few seconds of silence she refuses to continue the statement, I stare up at her; brows raised, and to no surprise find her grinning hopeful back at me.

"What?" I question dubiously, knowing only one connotation could come from such a grin, and that usually involved something un-enjoyable… for me.

"So, I was talking to my parents the other day getting the hoe down on this year's winter fa-"

"No." I intervene bluntly before she completes her statement, knowing to quite an extent where exactly this was going and not interested in any way possible.

Tatsuki, because of work, had little choice but to relocate several hours away from her family, being that work was scarce back in her old town and any hopes of getting that all too desired paycheck was minimal. As such most of her time is now spent a fair distance away from loved ones. However, because of that, her parents demand that they hold an annual get-together with which to remain somehow intact. Quite admirable really, you know, how parents will fight to wits end for a way to bring their loved ones close together. I wouldn't really know, but it's heartwarming to see.

See, the problem though, with this little jubilee, is that I am always somehow dragged along like a stray mutt. I know Tatsuki never means it as such, but it is difficult to see it any other way. She knows what my current relationship with my own family is like and as such I can't help but think she does what she does purely because of pity. And as delightful as that is, I'd much rather not receive any. I'm feeling enough of it for myself. Any other is strictly unnecessary.

"But come on!" She insists while leading a hand to grip my own arm and providing few tugs. "It'll be fun, I promise!"

"You mean like last time when your bastard cousin locked me in the shed for almost an entire day?"

"It was hide and seek! He just didn't want you to get caught that's all!" She tried to excuse, a failed attempt at that.

"Well, it worked." I mumble rancorously, knowing if the chance at seeing the pricks face again was provided I'd make sure to pummel his face in.

"Come on Ichi, please," She entwines both hands before her in a pleading manner.

"No."

"But I'd do it for you!"

My brow latches high, and she soon catches onto her words quickly backtracking and beginning to babble foolishly.

"I-I mean i-if your fam…I mean...if they one day maybe…I"

"I'm going inside." I say blandly as I lift myself from my seat and pull my legs out of the bench before beginning to saunter my way back towards the jail site in front of me. I have enough going on to feel down on myself about, I don't really need another harsh reality check as to how empty my life really is.

"But I asked Shuu and he's all for it!" She calls out after me, and my feet immediately pause at the words.

Slowly pivoting my body to face her, my eyes widen, my outrage clearly displayed. "You what?"

"Well I figured if you had someone there with you it wouldn't be so bad…" She mumbles sheepishly, while staring at her now fiddling feet.

Groaning irritably, I slam the palm of my hand against my forehead and shake my head loosely before once more beginning on my intended route.

Wouldn't be so bad? Wouldn't be so bad? Since when did what Shuuhei want contribute to my own wants or decisions? Did she somehow think that would in any way affect any idea I may have had on the matter?

Well it didn't. And I could care less. However, now I knew I'd be subject to constant pleads and urges from two equally stubborn forces as to attend the unwanted get-together. Great.

The churning of my now beckoning stomach rouses me from my thoughts. I place my hand atop the lowly rumbling abdomen.

"Guess I should've eaten…" I mumble to myself dryly before sighing softly and switching my gaze to the small clock at the far end of the office, though I can easily just look before me at the computer screen, I choose not to. It feels good to ease my sight off this goddamn screen.

I guess I could hold off for half hour, the work day would shortly come to an end anyway, thankfully, because really, I don't know how much more I can take before fully intending to drive every pen in this godforsaken office through my eye sockets.

Diverting my attention from my pesky rumbling stomach and towards the equally irritating computer screen, I rest my head atop my palm, a low yawn following shortly after.

Numbers, numbers, numbers, bills, bills, bills…Fuck! When's my next vacation?

Thirty minutes later and I am once more unable to complete the day's work. Not much of a surprise there, what with how utterly out of it I've been recently I'm surprised I can manage to remember where I even reside.

I shift in my spot when my jean pockets begin to vibrate and arch a brow in suspicion.

It couldn't possibly be Shuuhei, being that at this time he was still probably stuck in one of his late afternoon classes, and it sure as hell wouldn't be Tatsuki, how much of a lazy ass could she be to call me when we reside two doors down from each other. And well, it's difficult to think of anyone else, I'm not exactly the most sociable person. Surprising?

Flipping the small mechanism open, my eyes practically bulge from their sockets at the number displayed.

It can't be. Though I see it, and I'm most certainly not hallucinating at the moment – though it wouldn't come as much of a surprise if I were- I can't let myself believe in what I'm seeing.

"Byakuya?"

It can't be.

True he's always had my cell phone number at hand, but he never really felt the need to use it. Whenever he needed me, I was home, were he wanted me, so really there had been no point in him even communicating with me elsewhere or through other means besides my house phone. Besides that though, seldom did he ever allow his number to showcase, thus his calls always arrived as private. Perhaps as precautionary measures? I don't really know, nor do I care, they became his trademark, his distinction from the others.

Anxiety surges rapidly through my body, along with an overbearing urge to vomit, as my mind once more begins on its turbulent whirling's. Outside of my bothered innards I attempt to remain intact, in composure. I can't let this continue. I'll surely drive myself insane.

The ringing ceases for a moment before picking up again.

I don't want this anymore.

Can't he see I want no more of this? Why is it so difficult for him to leave? He will never entertain the thought of us truly being together, so why? Why must I continue to pay a debt that no longer belongs to me? It's never belonged to me.

As easily as my insides had become a whirlwind in knots of nerves, dread and regret an even larger feeling quickly develops inside me, rage.

I was never good enough, I've never been. You've always known this, yet you've sucked me dry of all my worth. Even though you see me try to break free, somehow gain some of my previous freedom, you refuse. Do you hate me this much Byakuya?

The droning ring, fully intent on grasping my attention, has yet again refused to come to an end.

I've already promised him, I've already promised myself I'd forget you.

_'I love you…'_

"I've already promised him…" I mumble quietly to myself, my own words seem to be washed away by the incessant rings, the mere action prompting my hand to brutally pound into the firm dial and press the phone up to my heavily ringing ear.

"I don't fucking want this anymore!" I burst angrily, my voice trembling, my limbs shaking alongside it. My eyes burn fiercely and I can finely make out the blurring haze that has begun to mark the edges of my lashes.

"Ichigo-kun?" A sweet sugary voice rings from the other end.

My eyes widen as I feel the world around me come to an abrupt standstill, all somehow vanishing from sight alongside it and drop the phone from ears length as my gut begins to slowly clench in on itself.


End file.
